The Trouble With Mickey
by moonmama
Summary: With my sincerest apologies to Alfred Hitchcock. Set immediately after The Girl in the Fireplace.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1: In which the Doctor and Rose brood, and Mickey makes stew. 

- + - + - +

"_Are you all right?"__ Rose asked the Doctor, not sure if she wanted to hear the answer._

"_I'm always all right," he replied in an entirely unconvincing voice._

- + - + - +

It was two days since the Doctor had returned from the other side of the fireplace and Reinette.

The TARDIS was still aboard the abandoned 51st century spaceship. The Doctor had said something about one of the TARDIS phase stabilisers being "stripped" and had spent most of the two days in a four-foot square alcove under the floor of the console room, working on repairs.

Or so he claimed, anyway. Mickey, in his efforts to make himself useful aboard the TARDIS, had cooked a large batch of stew and brought a bowl of it to the Doctor, who was, apparently, not expecting any company down there in his hole. Mickey had found him surrounded by banana peels, playing with a Rubik's Cube.

Mickey had informed Rose of this fact as they shared portions of the stew later in the kitchen, and instantly regretted it when she asked him in return, quite irritated, if he _always_ had to put in quite so much salt _every_ time he cooked.

Rose, for her part, was spending the time cleaning – her room, the kitchen, the bathroom, the library. The wardrobe had proven the most neglected room of them all; while she imagined that it might be useful sometime to have a nun's habit available, she doubted that they would need twenty of them. Same thing went for the fifty pairs of medieval-style military boots and the five large boxes of capes in a variety of colours, including electric pink.

She found two boxes of condoms in the pocket of a set of traditional Chinese robes - Qing Dynasty, she guessed. She sincerely hoped they had been left there by Captain Jack.

She even found some tidying-up to do in Mickey's room, despite the fact that he'd occupied it for a mere matter of days since joining them. He had watched her toil away, knowing quite well that this was her preferred way of coping with heartache.

He also noticed that the Doctor's room remained untouched in her cleaning frenzy.

"_Some things are worth getting your heart broken for."_

Sarah Jane's words echoed in Rose's ears almost constantly these days. _She'd been warned_, she told herself. She'd seen her future in Sarah Jane. Despite the Doctor's reply of, "No. Not to you," assuring her that he'd never leave _her_ behind, he had, in fact, already done so. The moment he'd given the OK to Mickey joining them, the moment he met Reinette, he might as well have dumped her back in Croydon. Or Aberdeen. Not like he knew the difference, anyway.

She'd heard Sarah Jane's words; she really had. She just hadn't expected the heartbreak to happen so soon.

She was going bonkers for the lack of female companionship. Rose wasn't normally the catty-girl-talk-gossip-while-varnishing-your-toenails type, most of the time the Doctor was all the company she required. Well, him and any girls, or blokes, or tentacled aliens they might meet along the way.

But this was different. She _was_ a girl, after all, and she'd concluded that there was something hard-wired in the female psyche that simply _required_ talking over one's problems.

But she had nobody to talk to. She certainly couldn't talk to the Doctor, nor did she have any desire to hear his side of things. And any attempt to broach the subject with Mickey led to immediate sniggering on his part.

She was finding it infuriatingly difficult to be angry with him for this.

So she'd gone into her room and confessed her woes to the only female around, the TARDIS, who responded with a slightly different engine hum that sounded vaguely sympathetic. And then _In Your Eyes_ started playing on the sound system.

It was at this point that Rose remembered telling the Doctor it was her favourite song.

_Estrogens_, she concluded. She needed a _proper_ female in a _proper_ human body with _proper_ female hormones to talk to. Sitting on her bed, she picked up her cell phone, dialled Shireen's number, and listed to it ring once, twice, three times. Then the answering machine picked up.

"No one's home, please leave a message. If you're a bloke, please include your height, weight, IQ, complete medical history, and any criminal convictions and we'll call you back as soon as possible. Maybe."

Rose listened to her friends' giggling voices on the answering machine for a moment, then quickly hung up before the beep. She considered calling her mum, but realised that talking to her would likely be as bad as talking to Mickey. Probably worse.

Feeling like her head was about to explode with unexpressed angst, she decided to get busy again. The oven hadn't been scrubbed yet, so she made her way down the hallway to the TARDIS kitchen, where she found Mickey seated at the table, nibbling away at some toast and reading a book.

"I found a few crumbs under my bed, you know," he said idly. "I think you missed some spots with the vacuum."

She chose to ignore him as she got out the oven cleaner and sponge.

"You know, I had it all wrong when we were dating," Mickey speculated. "I should've played around with other women, or ignored you and gone out with my mates more. My flat would've been spotless."

Rose had a nasty reply on the tip of her tongue, but only got so far as the dirty look, when the Doctor bounded into the room, all smiles and exuberance.

"Right," he said, giving Rose a wink that made her want to smack him. "So that's just about done, we'll be off soon."

"Finished your wallowing, then?" Mickey asked him, not looking up from his book.

"Wallowing?" the Doctor denied in an affronted tone. "I've been working on repairs. I'll have you know, a phase stabiliser is an incredibly delicate and complex piece of machinery. One wrong wire, one bad connection and we could be thrown to the edges of the universe, or sucked into the void, or end up in Guam in 1566."

"What's wrong with Guam in 1566?" Mickey asked.

"You really don't want to know," the Doctor replied. "Nasty business involving some turnips and a 93rd century toothbrush that fell through a hole in time. General Legazpi was never the same afterwards." He turned to Rose. "So where are we off to next? Ballybran? Canyons there make for some incredible rock climbing, especially with the low gravity. Or there's a star in the Ohrthi galaxy about to go supernova. Or," he brightened visibly, "we could go to the spring festival on Phallusacia. Wonderful food, great music, and it all culminates with the monks dancing the Sacrament of Spring. The males there have these positively enormous – "

"Home," Rose interjected.

"What?" asked Mickey and the Doctor simultaneously.

"Home," Rose repeated. "I want to go home. Not to stay," she answered Mickey's questioning look. "I just want a few days of feeling normal and then we'll be off again."

The Doctor snorted. "We could be witnessing the birth of a new galaxy, and you want to go _home_? To do what? Eat your beans and toast and watch your telly and wonder why Britney Spears wore the red shoes? That's how you want to spend your time?"

"_You_ can just shut it," she snapped at him. Then she sighed. "Just a few days, a few hours even, of just me, like maybe I could get my hair done and not have to worry about some fire-spitting reptiles taking over the House of Commons, or radioactive terriers blowing up a power plant."

The Doctor regarded her quizzically. Rose looked back, almost pleading with him, and he paused. For a moment, she thought he might actually ask what was bothering her, but he finally shrugged and consented. "Home it is," he said. "Just another day or so to finish up –"

"Another day?" Rose interrupted him. "It'll take that long?"

"Well," the Doctor considered, running a hand through his hair, "that's if I double-check all the connections, but really, with this brain of mine, how necessary is that?" He paused for a moment, eyes closed, lips moving like he was working sums in his head. Finally he answered, "all right, give me two hours, and then we'll be off." He turned and bounded back out of the room.

Mickey looked at Rose questioningly. "Didn't you just get your hair done last week?"

Rose threw a nasty glance in his direction and left the room, leaving the oven untouched and unscrubbed.

- + - + - +

The ride proved to be a bit bumpy. To put it mildly.

The Doctor hadn't informed them things were ready to go, but had simply taken off. Rose and Mickey realised they were on their way with the first lurch, which found Mickey wandering the corridors on the third level after getting lost on his way to the bathroom. Again. Rose, for her part, had waited until Mickey had vacated the kitchen, and had gone in to have some tea on her own. The tea was subsequently spilled down the front of her favourite new pink top.

A moment later, she was running into the console room to see what was happening, and found the Doctor dashing wildly about, punching buttons, turning knobs, and yanking more than a few live, sparking wires.

"What's going on?" she demanded.

"The time coupling," the Doctor replied, reaching up at a jumble of wires. The TARDIS lurched again, and he ducked as a rectangular instrument came flying towards his head. "Something's gone wrong, it's not stabilizing the trajectory properly."

Another lurch, Rose was thrown against the console, and the Doctor fell backwards, landing on his bottom on the floor. Mickey was just entering the room and found himself being tossed against the wall, where his nose met the solid surface with a particularly hard blow.

The Doctor quickly stood up, yanked a few more wires, and aimed the sonic screwdriver at one of the controls. "Mickey, make yourself useful!" he ordered, indicating for Mickey to hold a lever in position. Mickey obeyed, still rubbing his nose in pain.

Rose was put to work pumping another of the controls while the Doctor worked at least three more – one with his foot – and slowly their ride smoothed out.

"So what was that, then?" demanded Mickey, as Rose handed him a handkerchief for the trickle of blood running down his nose.

"Must've mixed up one of the connections," the Doctor replied, rubbing the back of his neck. "Odd, I'm usually spot-on with them. Must have a look. Anyway, here we are, then. London, Powell Estates, at your service."

"Just let me change and I'll be right there," Rose said, heading back towards her room.

Mickey went over to the door and looked back at the Doctor. "You coming?" he asked.

"I'm really not up for a dose of Jackie Tyler just now, thanks," the Doctor replied. "You two go enjoy yourselves, I'll stay here and have another look at these wirings."

- + - + - +

Rose emerged from the TARDIS a few minutes later to find Mickey outside, examining his surroundings, and looking aghast.

"What's wrong?" Rose asked, taking a look for herself. Everything appeared in order, it was definitely London; the Powell Estates stood before them. He handed her a newspaper and she scanned the headline.

**ROYAL WEDDING SOUVENIR**

Underneath the words was a montage of pictures showing the events leading up to the wedding of Charles and Diana.

"July 26, 1981," Rose read the date. "That's so weird, the wedding's in three days."

"I feel like we should go warn them or something," Mickey commented.

"We should let the Doctor know," Rose suggested.

"You do it," Mickey said. "There's something I need to do here." Rose noticed a determined look about him that she was finding unnerving.

"Mickey," Rose said in a warning tone.

"1981," he reflected, staring off into the distance. "We haven't even been born yet." He turned to look Rose in the eye. "I know where she lived, though."

"Mickey," Rose repeated, sounding increasingly uneasy. Just as she knew who Mickey was talking about, she knew nothing good could come of his going to see her.

"I need to see her. I need some answers," he stated, his jaw set determinedly. He started down the street, then turned back to face her. "You coming?"

"Mickey, you won't get any answers from her. She doesn't even know you exist," Rose objected. "It hasn't happened for her yet."

"She's my mother. I need to see her," Mickey repeated. He shrugged. "If I could just see her, see what she was like, maybe I could understand a little more why she left."

"So what're you going to tell her, then?" Rose demanded. She put on a mock Mickey-voice. "'Hello, Mum, I'm the son you haven't even conceived yet, I've travelled in time from the future to find out why you left me, even though you haven't actually done it yet.'"

"Rose, please," Mickey beseeched. "You don't have to come, I just need to do this."

Rose folded her arms over her chest and eyed him up in her most Jackie-esque fashion. After a long silence, she decided that staring him down wasn't going to work, so she rolled her eyes and sighed. "Well, if you're going, you're certainly not going without me."

Mickey grinned and launched himself towards her in a tight hug.

They set off together to pay a visit to Mickey's mother.

_tbc_

- + - + - +

A/N: Anyone interested in being a beta and/or Britpicking this, please drop me a note.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2: In which we meet Mickey's mother and a stranger with a secret. 

- + - + - +

The Doctor was having some difficulties with the phase stabiliser wiring. Again.

He had repaired the connection where he'd gone wrong the first time round, all the while refusing to contemplate or even acknowledge that he could've been distracted enough to make such a mistake in the first place. But now, in addition to the initial error, the entire series of connections was fried, the result of their close call on the way there.

And how close it had been. Rose and Mickey had no idea, nor did he see any reason to enlighten them, of just _how_ _close_ they had come to being blown to bits. Or being ripped apart in the wall of the Vortex.

Or, possibly worse, being stranded in Macedonia centuries before the invention of public sanitation.

He would definitely be sure to double check the wirings this time.

But first he needed to determine how much of it all was still serviceable, and how much needed replacing. This was no small task in and of itself.

He climbed out of the alcove and went over to where he'd stashed a box of tools, in search of a particle detector. He rummaged through the box until he found what he was looking for, retrieved it, and headed back to the alcove, where he descended back down under the floor.

He switched on the particle detector and had just started fiddling with the settings, when something on the display caught his attention. He reversed the settings in search of the one he had just flipped past, and found what had caught his eye.

_Phyllium_ radiation?

He _had_ seen right the first time. The particle detector was registering phyllium radiation somewhere in the vicinity.

Something was not right here. Phyllium radiation, he knew, wouldn't be discovered for another three millennia. If the particle detector was indicating it here and now, there were only two possibilities: either the detector was malfunctioning, or someone was there who shouldn't be, doing something they shouldn't be doing.

After a moment's contemplation on these options, the Doctor decided that, although the former option was more likely, the latter one sounded _much_ more interesting.

Two minutes later he was outside the TARDIS, scanning the area for the trail of the radiation, and starting along its path towards the source.

The phase stabiliser repairs would have to wait.

- + - + - +

Rose and Mickey had finally managed to find the apartment building after two wrong turns, and a brief encounter with a vagrant who insisted that they renounce all consumption of tomatoes immediately in order to find eternal salvation.

In the end, Rose did her womanly duty and asked for directions.

They stood outside the building and eyed it up. It was a pleasant, quiet neighbourhood, surrounded by well-kept gardens. There were a number of businesspeople dressed in suits arriving home after a day at work. Children ran about the playground, laughing playfully.

"This is it, I'm pretty sure," Mickey said. He nodded towards a potted plant on the front stoop. "There's the plant I knocked over when I was three. Mum was _furious_ with me." He paused. "Funny how it's the bad things you remember most." He kicked idly at a bottle cap on the ground.

"It's so strange," Rose reflected. "I never thought I'd ever meet your mother. D'you remember any more about her?" she asked, taking his hand in hers.

"Just images, really," Mickey reflected. "Dad left when I was three, Mum left just a few months later so I was living with Gran by the time I was four. I was always asking her about Mum. She never said much, just 'she just couldn't cope.' Said it was just too much for her, with Dad leaving, raising me on her own, and paying the bills and all." He looked off into the distance. "I never really believed her, though."

"You thought she left because of you?" Rose asked gently. "Kids usually do. It's perfectly normal, Mickey. It's wrong, but it's normal."

"No," Mickey denied. "I mean, yeah, it's normal, but there was something more. Something about her was just never quite right. It's like even when she was there, there was something missing." He closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them and looked at Rose. "It's hard to describe. It's like she'd hold me or hug me and she was _cold_. Hollow. Never felt like it was complete. Never really satisfying."

"Mickey, that's horrible," Rose commiserated.

They stood, hand-in-hand, contemplating the apartment building in silence, and watching as a woman and a small child came running around from the back and entered the front door.

"OK, let's do it," Mickey said finally, starting toward the door.

"You've worked out what to say?" Rose asked.

"No," Mickey replied. "But if I don't do it now, I never will."

They approached the door and scanned the panel of residents' names next to buzzer buttons for each flat. Mickey pushed the button next to the name 'Miranda Tallis'. A moment later, the buzzer sounded, letting them into the building. They proceeded up the stairs and located Miranda's flat on the third floor.

"You ready?" Rose asked Mickey.

Mickey responded by knocking on the door, which was answered almost immediately by a young woman, about 25 years of age, with an obvious family resemblance to Mickey. She was wearing a purple flowered dress, was barefoot, and held a mascara wand in one hand. The grin on her face and twinkle in her eye indicated a playfulness about her.

"Can I help you?" she asked.

Rose glanced over at Mickey, who seemed temporarily paralysed, so she plunged in on her own. "Miranda Tallis?" she asked.

The woman nodded, so Rose continued, extending her hand to shake with Miranda. "Hello, my name is Rose Tyler, and this is Mi-"

"Mitch," Mickey cut her off, putting on a fake American accent. "I'm visiting from California, I'm from your Aunt Mary's side of the family. She told me to look you up when I got to London. Sorry I didn't ring first."

Miranda's face brightened. "Oh, right," she said, "Come in, please." She motioned for them to enter, so Rose and Mickey stepped over the threshold.

Miranda indicated the mascara wand in her hand. "Be right back," she said as she disappeared down the hallway.

Rose nudged Mickey in the side. "Good going, cowboy," she whispered.

They surveyed their surroundings while they waited. They were standing in an entryway with a living room in front of them that was large, airy and pleasantly decorated with plenty of photographs and plants. To the right was the kitchen, and to the left was a hallway, presumably leading to the bedrooms.

Miranda reappeared, empty-handed this time. She came over to them and looked at Mickey with a probing curiosity. "So we're cousins, then?" she asked. "I thought you looked familiar. We must've met before – were you at John and Emily's wedding last year?"

"Yeah, yeah," Mickey played along.

Miranda laughed. "Did you get to meet the groom? Have you _ever_ seen so many body piercings on one person in your life? Gives an entirely new perspective to the phrase 'holy matrimony.'" She chuckled and looked at Mickey, expecting him to laugh along. Mickey, however, was studying her face closely and had hardly heard what she had said.

Just then, they heard a noise from down the hallway, and a man's voice called out, "Miranda, where'd you put the toothpaste?"

Miranda turned and shouted back, "Middle drawer under the sink. And stay out of my knickers drawer if you know what's good for you!" She giggled good-naturedly.

"I'm not interested in your bloody knickers," came the reply, sounding rather irritated.

Miranda turned back to Mickey and Rose. "Sorry, that's just my boyfriend in the shower," she explained. "Bit of a grouch on the outside but what can I say? I'm completely smitten. Sucker for a tortured soul, you know?" She shrugged at them. "So d'you need a place to stay, then?"

"Oh, no," Mickey backed off. "Just wanted to say hi and all." His American accent was wavering a bit and Miranda gave him a strange look. Then she turned to a small table by the door, picked up a pen & paper, and scribbled something on it. "Well, we've got tickets to a show tonight, but here's my number. Ring me tomorrow and maybe we can go out to dinner or something." She handed Mickey the paper and motioned towards the door.

Mickey realised that they were expected to leave, and a look of desperation crossed his face. He glanced sideways at Rose and then blurted out, "do you have the viola?"

"What?" Rose and Miranda replied in unison.

"From Uncle Stewart," Mickey elaborated. "He left it to you in his will."

Miranda looked at him like he had two heads. "Uncle Stewart? He's in Bristol. Mum and I just saw him two weeks ago."

"Oh, right," Mickey said, colouring. "Sorry."

"OK, so we'll be off then," Rose said, increasingly worried about Mickey's mental state. She tugged him by the arm and turned to leave.

"Nice meeting you," Miranda called after them. "Ring me tomorrow, we'll get together."

The door closed, and Rose and Mickey started making their way back down the stairs.

"So what's this about the viola, then?" Rose asked finally as they reached the ground floor and headed out the door.

"Uncle Stewart must've died after I was born," Mickey began. "He left the viola to her. Mum was a musician. Not professional, or anything, but she played when she could. I just remembered it, just now, talking to her. I used to love hearing her play. It's like it was the only time she was really alive."

They exited the building and sat down on a nearby bench. Mickey looked back towards the building, frustrated. "Useless," he murmured, shaking his head. "Rose, did that look to you like a woman who couldn't cope?"

"No," Rose answered honestly. "But you never know what's going on with people. Not really." She sighed. "Mickey, honestly, I don't think you're ever going to get the answers you want. We could probably take the TARDIS and go catch her the moment she's walking out the door and you probably still won't be satisfied with what she has to say."

They contemplated the situation together in silence.

Just then, the door to the building opened and a man emerged from inside, looking rather anxious. Rose and Mickey watched as he pulled something out from the bag he was carrying. It looked like a small telescope. He held it up and scanned his surroundings, making two complete revolutions, as if he were looking for something that was eluding him.

Rose stood up and went over to him. "Can we help you?" she offered to the man. "D'you need directions?"

"Never should've left it alone," the man muttered, more to himself than to Rose. Then he looked up at her. "I'm fine, thanks," he replied. He turned and made off at a fast pace, almost running.

Rose turned to Mickey, who was watching him go. "It's him," he said, his voice full of surprise and awe.

Rose looked back at the man. He had stopped about a block away, and was pulling another device from his bag. Rose gasped as she recognised what it was.

It was a 51st-century sonic blaster.

"Sonic blaster, sonic cannon, triple-enfolded sonic disrupter," Rose muttered to nobody in particular. "Come on," she motioned to Mickey to follow her.

They followed as the man continued down another block, then disappeared around a corner.

This continued for another mile or so. Mickey noticed that the further they went, the more the neighbourhood declined. "Not the sort of place I'd want to be caught in at night," he observed. The streets were increasingly deserted, more and more buildings abandoned with broken windows and graffiti all around them.

They rounded another corner where the man had gone, just in time to see him entering a building at the end of the alley. They continued down towards the building. When they reached it, Rose surreptitiously peered in the window.

"He's not in there," she whispered to Mickey.

Mickey crouched down on his hands and knees and looked down into the tiny basement window. Then he looked up at Rose and motioned for her to have a look as well.

Through the window they could see the man in the basement. Rose gasped when she saw that he wasn't alone. There was another figure lying on the floor, curled up with ankles bound together, wrists tied behind his back, and a gag in his mouth.

The man they had followed there was circling his prisoner suspiciously. Then, apparently satisfied that he wasn't going anywhere, the captor went over to a corner of the room and switched on a light. Rose and Mickey gaped at each other when they saw what had been hidden there.

The man had some sort of contraption. There was no indication as to what it was for, but it was clearly way beyond twentieth century technology. Twenty-first too, for that matter. The device had a base, about two feet in diameter and circular, with a display of some sort and a variety of switches on it. There was also an arm of sorts extending upwards.

"What is it?" Mickey wondered.

He hadn't really expected an answer, but he got one nonetheless. A voice behind them spoke up, suddenly and cheerfully. "Well, whatever it is, it's emitting enough phyllium radiation to power all the Earth's hairdryers for an entire year."

They turned and to their surprise, saw the Doctor behind them, peering in the window as well, and scanning the area with the sonic screwdriver.

"Phyllium radiation," he continued. "Amazing stuff. It was discovered in the forty-ninth century as part of a new tooth whitening process, of all things. First adopted for use in powering the Brussels mass transit system. Also useful as a stain remover. Gets rid of warts, too. And you'd think it would be completely toxic, but it's actually entirely harmless to humans and most humanoids as well." He paused for a moment to wink at Rose. "Good thing there's no kangaroos nearby, though." He continued his scanning for another few moments, then looked up at both of them. "Now are you going to explain to me what the two of you are doing here?"

"Funny," Rose commented. "I was just about to ask you the same thing."

_tbc_


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3: In which we learn more about the stranger, Mickey panics, and the st hits the fan between Rose and the Doctor.

- + - + - +

The Doctor, Mickey and Rose had filled each other in on the man, his 51st century blaster, and the radiation trail that had led them all to the same spot at the same time. Now they stood outside the abandoned building, trying to decide on their next move.

Mickey had been oddly silent throughout the conversation. He was crouched down, staring through the basement window at the stranger, an odd, forlorn expression on his face. Rose wanted to attribute this attitude to the ill-fated encounter with his mum, but something about the way he was looking at the stranger made her think that there was more that he wasn't letting on.

The Doctor was standing with his back to them, still scanning with the particle detector, examining the trail of phyllium radiation. Rose watched him and had a sudden urge to run as fast as she could to the nearest pub and spend the next three days doing nothing but drink lager, eat chips, and watch the Royal Wedding on the telly. Which reminded her…

"Doctor, it's 1981," she spoke up. "Not 2008, the TARDIS miscalculated."

"I know," he replied. "Or, knew it was the 80's anyway. It's the hair," he answered her questioning look. "You can always tell by the hair, and blimey, were the 80's ever a bad hair decade." He crouched down to look in the basement window. "Right then," he announced, grinning up at the two of them. "So we've got a stranger with 51st century technology harbouring a prisoner in the basement of an abandoned London building." He gave Rose his silliest, stupidest, most excited grin. "I'd say it's time to go introduce ourselves." He stood up and started towards the door, but stopped when he saw Mickey and Rose hesitate. "Problem?" he asked, the excitement still showing around of the corners of his mouth.

Rose couldn't stand looking at that grin another moment, and decided on sarcasm as her preferred way to wipe it off his face. "He's a renegade harbouring a prisoner on his own, with a deadly weapon at his disposal and you want to just waltz in and say hello?" she replied, hands on her hips. "Talk about the weather? How about the football scores? You don't think he might get a bit trigger happy at being found out?"

"Possibly. Good point" the Doctor acknowledged as he wagged his head up and down and crouched down again to aim the sonic screwdriver through the window. "Might do us some good to see what he's got going down there first."

"What d'you reckon that thing is?" Mickey asked, indicating the device that the man was fiddling with. It most closely resembled a large lamp, with a round, bulbous base that was covered in controls and indicators, and an arm extending upwards instead of a light bulb.

"Oh, could be any number of things," the Doctor speculated, rubbing a finger over his eye. "An Elnarian Celgh filter perhaps, judging by the relay controls on that side, or the shape's a bit like a Hypolinth, though it'd be useless in this atmosphere. Probably some sort of projector with that arm on it, though I'd have to get a closer look to see what it's projecting."

They watched as the man flicked switches and adjusted settings on the device, which began to emit a sort of silvery dome of light on the ceiling.

At the sight of it, the Doctor's eyes widened in surprise. "Hold on, I've seen something like that before," he observed. "Almost reminds me of those Drak snares that they used to use on Alria III," the Doctor observed.

"Use for what?" Rose asked.

"Pest control," the Doctor explained. "The Draks were these utterly _massive_ flying parasites that infested the chilk stores on Alria. Chilk – it's sort of like coffee. The infestation positively _devastated_ the supplies on the southern continent. Sent them into a decade-long economic depression. Never seen anything like it. Quite sobering, really, when you see something like that and realise humanity's only two cups of coffee away from complete anarchy and economic ruin." He paused for a moment to put on his glasses as he peered closer through the window, then brightened. "I quite like the Starbucks Hazelnut myself. Anyway, they finally wiped out the Drak population with these snares, much like you're seeing here. The dome works sort of like…" he stopped in mid-sentence, eyes wide as he gaped at what he saw through the window.

Rose and Mickey crouched down to look as well.

The man had pulled out his blaster and was aiming it at his prisoner's head.

Rose was the first to act. Not willing to wait and see what he'd do next, she threw open the door to the building and ran down the stairs in an attempt to stop him before firing. She reached the bottom of the stairs, ran into the room and threw her entire body at the man, tackling him to the floor just as the weapon discharged.

She was too late. The blast hit the prisoner squarely in the head, killing him instantly.

The Doctor and Mickey followed Rose down the stairs, and now stood watching the events that followed. In the process of tackling the man, Rose and he had landed against the contraption in the corner, knocking it into the wall. The silvery light on the ceiling was extinguished instantly.

Rose climbed off of the man and stood up, all the while hurling a stream of obscenities at him as she choked out indignant, angry tears at the death of the helpless prisoner.

To everyone's surprise, he responded in much the same fashion, throwing words like 'interference' and 'broken trap' back at her. It took Rose a few moments to take notice of this unexpected reaction, and her shock finally got her to calm down and watch what happened next.

The dead man's mouth was opening.

Something was emerging from it.

Rose, the Doctor and Mickey stepped back as they watched. It appeared to be made of light, but it was a cool, blue and yellow, unnerving light that somehow conveyed the impression of insatiable hunger as it began to circle the ceiling above them. It swirled around above their heads, changing form continually, yet somehow always appearing ready to _devour_ anything it came into contact with.

They watched in horror. The creature had no distinct mouth, but Rose thought she could see it salivating nonetheless. Her suspicions were confirmed when she felt a drop of something that could only have been drool land on her head.

The man aimed his blaster at the creature and announced in a quiet voice, "Everyone stay calm. I just need to fix the trap and we'll get it put away for good." He went to work on the device, pulling wires and flicking switches.

"And why should we trust _you_?" Rose demanded angrily. "We just watched you murder a helpless prisoner."

"Because if you don't, that thing will invade each of your bodies, one by one, and devour you from the inside out in the most painful death that I've ever witnessed," the man replied as he yanked on a particularly stubborn wire. "_That_ was an act of mercy." He indicated the dead prisoner on the floor.

The Doctor was busy scanning the creature with the sonic screwdriver. "Incredible," he observed. "Ghrelin levels are off the scale, bile, gastric juices. This thing could eat more than a blue whale on a binge. It's almost like it exists solely to eat. What is it?"

"It's an Edacious Entity," the man replied. "Been chasing it across time for almost a year now. Would've had it too, if this girlie hadn't interfered just now." He threw an angry look over at Rose. "Who are you lot, anyway? You obviously don't belong in these parts." He nodded at the Doctor, who had moved on to scanning the dead prisoner with the sonic screwdriver.

There was a whooshing sound as the creature dove down past the man's head and back up again. "Oh, just a couple of travellers," the Doctor replied vaguely. "Just passing through, noticed a thing or two, wondered who this person could be who's fiddling with 51st century technology here in 1981."

"Jackson," Mickey interjected suddenly. "That's his name, isn't that right?" He gave the man a probing, almost defiant look.

The man looked up at Mickey in surprise, and their eyes met for a moment as the two men sized each other up. "How'd you know that?" he asked.

"Lucky guess," Mickey replied evasively, as his gaze returned to the creature that was still circling the ceiling above them. It seemed to be edging nearer and nearer to Mickey. "Why's it looking at me?" he asked, panic rising in his voice.

"Fear," replied Jackson, who was squinting at a dial on the trap through a magnifying glass. "It's attracted to it. It can smell it. Try and calm down. Don't let it find you."

"Easy for you to say, you're the one holding the blaster," Mickey retorted as he closed his eyes and took a deep breath in an effort to relax.

"Blaster's useless against it," Jackson explained.

"But quite serviceable against a helpless victim tied up on the floor?" Rose demanded angrily.

"Told you, that was an act of mercy," Jackson defended himself. "He's been long gone for some time now."

"_Every_ internal organ is reduced in size," the Doctor interjected, switching off the sonic screwdriver after scanning the dead prisoner.

"Not reduced," Jackson corrected him. "Eaten. He hosted the creature for a full week. I kept hoping I'd have the trap ready sooner, but unfortunately…" he trailed off and for a moment Rose thought she could see the remembrance of a thousand deaths in his eyes.

"It just keeps getting better. You almost ready with that trap?" Mickey asked frantically, as the creature started swooping down closer and closer to his head. He gave a shriek as it brushed the top of his hair.

"Mickey, calm down!" the Doctor ordered earnestly. "Your life depends on it."

"Thanks, that's very helpful," Mickey replied sarcastically.

"Almost there," Jackson said, madly flipping switches on the trap, and finally turning to aim the arm towards the creature.

The creature made a pass directly across Mickey's face, causing him to go into full-blown terror. With one final shriek of fright, he ducked as the creature swooped down on his head and was sucked up through his mouth and nostrils, making Mickey look as though he was breathing in blue smoke.

Instantly he toppled to the floor, screaming and writhing in pain.

Rose immediately ran to Mickey's side, knelt down and tried to calm him by stroking his hair and face. "Can't you do something?" she demanded of the Doctor frantically.

"I'm trying," he replied urgently, kneeling down next to Mickey and switching on the sonic screwdriver. "Screwdriver's got some acupuncture settings…" he trailed off as he worked frenetically, trying setting after setting.

Nothing helped. Mickey continued to shriek in anguish as his body thrashed about. His eyes rolled back in his head and he was starting to foam at the mouth. Rose was getting desperate.

"Ready," Jackson said finally, between Mickey's screams. He flicked one more switch and the silvery dome appeared again on the ceiling.

And then he pointed the sonic blaster at Mickey's head.

"NO!" Rose screamed. She launched herself at Jackson for a second time.

He was ready for her this time. Instantly, the blaster was aimed directly at Rose, stopping her in her tracks. Jackson looked her in the eye with an unwavering, unnerving gaze that was confident and determined, and only slightly annoyed, as if she were a trivial aggravation to be brushed aside with the flick of a hand. "It's the only way to make the creature leave his body," Jackson explained. "It's a low level setting. He'll be all right," he said in a voice that sent a shiver up Rose's spine.

Mickey's shrieks had changed to a series of short, staccato, raspy cries. The Doctor was still trying to find the correct screwdriver setting that would ease his pain, but he was finding it increasingly difficult due to Mickey's increasingly violent thrashing.

Rose was still staring down the barrel of the sonic blaster, Mickey's voice pounding into her head as she tried to form coherent thoughts. "You killed _him_," she accused Jackson, indicating the dead prisoner. "Why should we believe you won't kill Mickey?"

The Doctor inflicted a blow to Mickey's head, hard enough to knock out someone twice Mickey's size, but it had no effect on him, other than to make him screech even louder.

Jackson ignored him and responded to Rose. "I told you, that was an act of mercy. He'd hosted the Entity far too long, there was no way to save him." He looked back and forth between the Doctor and Rose, purportedly seeking approval to proceed with shooting Mickey.

Rose was still leery. "Don't let him, Doctor. I don't trust him," she said between clenched teeth.

The Doctor was standing up and backing away from Mickey. "Nothing's working," he said to Rose in a desperate voice. "I can't help him." He glanced down at Mickey, who was still shrieking in agony. "If you can help him, now would be the time," he said to Jackson, his voice unsteady.

"NO!" Rose cried again, turning to look at the Doctor as she said it.

Jackson seized his opportunity and aimed the blaster back at Mickey's head.

And immediately the Doctor realised his mistake, as he saw the man surreptitiously switch settings on the weapon before discharging it at Mickey.

It was set to kill.

Mickey took the blast square to the head.

His screams ceased immediately, and he lay on the floor, motionless.

"You liar!" the Doctor snarled angrily, throwing himself towards Jackson, and slamming him up against the wall, face first, pinning him there. "You said he'd be all right," he growled, roughly jerking Jackson's head back by the hair.

"It was the only way to get the creature out of him," Jackson explained, panting from fear and adrenaline. "Your friend was a goner the moment that creature was inside him, but I knew you'd never let me do it. I had no choice."

"There's always a choice," the Doctor retorted, shaking with rage. Almost dismissively, he gave Jackson a blow to the head, knocking him unconscious. Then he turned to Rose.

She was stooped over Mickey's body, sobbing, her arms around his neck, pressing her cheek next to his.

She felt like she'd gone blind. Everything was black. The earth had dropped out from under her and she was falling into an abyss.

Alone.

He was all she had left. Mickey. Her one constant in life. Gone.

The Doctor had already left her, perhaps not literally, but in every other sense of the word. She was alone, in a strange place and a strange time.

She had cast Mickey aside, selfishly running off with the Doctor, selfishly assuming, never questioning that he would be right where she'd left him if and when she ever needed him.

"_You _left_me! We were nice. We were happy. And then what, you give me a kiss and you run off with him and you make me feel like _nothing_Rose. I was _nothing_ I can't even go out with a stupid girl from a shop because you pick up the phone and I comes running. I mean, is that what I am, Rose? Standby? Am I just supposed to sit here for the rest of my life, waiting for you? Because I will."_

No, he wouldn't. Not any more.

"I'm sorry," Rose murmured into his ear, tears spilling down into his hair as she pressed into him, all the while drowning in waves of loneliness and guilt.

He'd insisted on coming along, and now he was dead. Because of her.

As if objecting to her silent inculpation, the Doctor tentatively approached Rose's weeping figure and touched her gently on the shoulder. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm so, so sorry."

His apology was _not_ accepted. Rose furiously flung her arm around in a wide arc to ward off his touch and tried to shove him away, but he grabbed her by the arms and lifted her up into an embrace.

She buried her head in his shoulder and sobbed violently, trying to hide her face, her_self_, from the guilt and pain.

And then she remembered the sight of the Doctor nodding to Jackson, and her anger returned. She pounded his chest between sobs. "Why did you do it?" she demanded of him. "I told you I didn't trust him."

"Mickey was screaming. Something had to be done," the Doctor explained lamely. "I believed Jackson. I thought he'd be all right." His voice was hollow and choked-up. "I was wrong."

"Why did you let him come with us?" Rose demanded, pulling away from his touch entirely. "I didn't want him here. You _knew_ that. I wanted him safe. _Why_ did you let him come?"

"Oh, Rose," he sighed. He was silent for a moment. "You needed someone," he finally replied, not meeting her gaze. "A human. I saw you talking with Sarah Jane; I saw how much you needed that."

"No," Rose denied. She covered her face with her hands as another wave of grief came on. She crouched down, took Mickey's hand in hers and stroked it gently.

"Rose," the Doctor said a moment later, and there was an edge to his voice that hadn't been there before. She looked up in surprise and saw that he was studying the silvery dome of light above their heads. "Jackson shot Mickey in order to release the Entity into the trap, yes?"

Rose nodded.

"Then why hasn't it been released?"

_tbc_


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Please note that the character of Kione has been re-named to be Jackson. My apologies for any confusion, it was done for the sake of consistency; and that's all I'm going to say on the matter at this time. Very astute readers/viewers might be able to figure it out on their own. If not, all will be revealed in the next chapter.

This chapter has been excruciatingly difficult to write, for whatever reason, and ended up being almost twice the length of my usual chapters, so I've split it into two. The next chapter should follow fairly quickly since it's mostly written already.

As usual, this is neither beta'd nor Britpicked. Anyone willing to volunteer for either job, please drop me a note.

Chapter 4: In which we learn just what happened to Mickey, and the Doctor and Rose discuss poetry and hair care products.

- + - + - +

If nothing else, Rose found that travelling with the Doctor was definitely a learning experience; a real study in survival, and the nature of human/alien/sentient life. She'd been keeping a running log of lessons she'd learnt along the way; lessons she referred to often when dealing with the particular menace of the day. The list, so far, went something like this:

1. Never underestimate the usefulness of vinegar.

2. Don't take a genius's word for it; they can be pretty stupid sometimes.

3. Never climb a rope without first checking to see where it leads.

Today, she had a new one to add to the list:

_ 4. Never_ assume anyone is dead, even if you've personally witnessed a catastrophe that they couldn't possibly have survived. _Always_ check for a pulse.

Mickey had a pulse.

He'd taken a full-force blast direct to the head, but somehow, he was still alive.

He had an alien taking up residence inside his body that wanted to eat him from the inside-out, but unbelievably, his heart was still beating.

Rose's entire body went weak with relief as she crouched over Mickey, her tears of sorrow turning to tears of relief. She cried out happily, "Doctor, he's alive!"

"What?" the Doctor asked in bewilderment, as he bent over to examine Mickey, who remained motionless. The sonic screwdriver whirred as the Doctor commented, "heart rate normal, blood pressure 112/76, metabolic functions normal," he trailed off. He squinted questioningly at Mickey, pointed a finger at his mouth and added, "Bit of drool round the mouth there, and by the look of things, he's about to start snoring any time now." He looked up at Rose. "You actually _snogged_ this man?"

Rose, who was still quite irate with him, was not finding this the least bit helpful. For the moment, however, she had other concerns on her mind. "What's happened to the creature?" she asked.

The Doctor continued scanning Mickey's body. "Still there. It's nearly undetectable," he said. Then he looked up at Rose. "It's been knocked out, near as I can tell."

"Jackson said that was impossible," Rose reminded him, stroking Mickey's forehead protectively.

"Jackson hasn't exactly proven himself trustworthy," the Doctor retorted. He leant over and looked Rose in the eye carefully, deliberately and spoke in a gentle voice. "We'll sort it out," he said. "I won't let anything else happen to him. I promise."

There was a time, Rose thought, when these words from him would've warmed her more than a cup of tea sitting by the fireplace in February, but now she just smiled weakly and looked down at the floor.

Just then, they heard rustling across the room. As if responding to the sound of his name, Jackson had started to stir. Immediately, Rose leapt up, grabbed the blaster off the floor, and went over to him. She aimed the weapon directly into his face. Jackson opened his eyes into the barrel of the gun, jumped in surprise, and slid backwards on his arse so that his back was pressed against the wall.

Rose did not waver with her aim for a second, but continued pointing the blaster directly at him. "I ought to shoot you down, right here," she threatened.

The Doctor went over to Jackson, stooped down and pressed the sonic screwdriver up into the base of his chin. "Just so we're clear," he said in his most menacing voice, "that weapon was set to kill, yes?"

"Highest setting," Jackson confirmed with a sneer.

"You never intended to save Mickey," the Doctor snarled angrily.

"There was no way to save him," Jackson replied. Then he remembered, and frantically scanned the ceiling above them where the trap was still deployed, but conspicuously void of its prey. "Where is it? What's happened? Where's the creature?" he asked.

"Mickey's not dead," the Doctor informed him, each word enunciated slowly and meticulously. "The creature is still in him."

"That's impossible," Jackson said in surprise. "I shot him square in the head. How could he survive?" He tried to move to get up, but Rose advanced on him with the blaster as the Doctor pressed the screwdriver harder up into his chin.

"Give me one good reason why my friend shouldn't pull that trigger right now," the Doctor growled at him, their faces so close that their noses almost touched.

"I'm the only one who understands the creature," Jackson replied. "_Please_. Let me look at him," he pleaded desperately.

"Understand it?" Rose laughed darkly. "You've no idea what just happened with Mickey. You don't understand a _thing_."

"Why isn't he in pain?" Jackson asked desperately. "If he's not dead, if the creature is still there, why isn't he screaming?"

"It's been disabled. Knocked out," the Doctor explained, loosening his grip on Jackson and backing away in deference to Rose and the weapon she still had trained on Jackson.

"Knocked out? How can that be?" Jackson repeated. "_Please_ let me look at him," he implored them, looking back and forth between Rose and the Doctor.

"Your call, Rose," the Doctor deferred. "He might be able to offer some help with this creature, but of course he said he would help before, and we all know where that led."

"I'm not going to kill him," Jackson entreated, looking back and forth between Rose and the Doctor. "Really. I'm telling the truth. There may be another way. I've never seen the Entity knocked out before. I'm not going to shoot him if there's a chance. I'm not a murderer." He shot a glance back at Rose, who was still aiming the weapon at him and looking doubtful. "Couldn't shoot him if I wanted to, anyway, you've got the blaster. What d'you think I could possibly do to him?"

Rose sighed in resignation, and motioned for him to go over to Mickey's unconscious figure on the floor. She did not lower the weapon. "Just give me one reason to shoot, and you're done," she threatened him.

Jackson obliged, knelt down next to Mickey and started examining him as the Doctor joined him on Mickey's other side. Jackson indicated one of his tools that was on the floor and the Doctor passed it to him.

"By all appearances, he's sleeping," the Doctor explained. "Heart rate, blood pressure, breathing, metabolic functions, all normal, you'd never know there was a creature in there ravenous enough to devour an entire blue whale as an appetizer before a twelve-course meal if it weren't for-"

Jackson looked up at the Doctor with a frosty glare, clearly indicating that he intended to conduct the examination alone.

"Right. Fine, fine," the Doctor said, eyebrows raised and lips pursed as he watched Jackson work with the slightest hint of bemusement. Then he stood up in acquiescence and made his way over next to Rose, where he paused by her outstretched arm, looking as if to say something. Apparently deciding otherwise, he closed his mouth, turned away and stood quietly.

Rose, who was watching Jackson's every move for the slightest hint of trickery, was finding the Doctor's presence – particularly the uncharacteristic silence about him – unnerving. This feeling was not lessened a bit when he circled around behind her and paused again. She could feel the fabric of his coat brush against her back, making her catch her breath in spite of herself. Her hand aiming the weapon at Jackson wobbled.

And then she heard him sniffing in short bursts of breath behind her, sounding rather like a dog who's picked up the scent of bacon, and she rounded on him, at once bothered and curious. "Something I can do for you?" she asked directly to his face, then quickly turned back to face her target.

"Something's different," came his voice behind her, perplexed. "Are you using a new conditioner?"

Rose might have thought she was hearing things if she hadn't felt him briefly fingering a lock of her hair. "Mickey's got an alien inside him that wants to devour him from the inside out, we've got a man trying to kill him, and you're asking me about my _hair care products_?" she asked, incredulous.

"Good a time as any," the Doctor replied, coming round to face her with a shrug. "We might as well have a chat while we wait. I was going to mention the football scores, but you haven't seen the 2408 World Cup, and really, there's hardly a match worth discussing after seeing that one. Simply amazing, that. Those Belgians were unstoppable." He grinned one of his most charming smiles at her. "But then I noticed the aroma about you."

Rose gritted her teeth. "That shopkeeper on the jungle planet last week had a scented wash. I liked the smell so I tried it out," she explained, more to quiet him down than anything else.

He was behind her again, leaning in for another sniff of her hair. "Bit spicy for you, don't you think?" he said after a brief silence.

"What's wrong with spicy?" she asked, feeling positively dizzy from the ups and downs and twists and turns, and absurd range of emotions that had become a fact of life since this Doctor had come into being. She doubted she'd ever get used to it.

"You're _Rose_, you should smell as sweet," he replied, and before she had a chance to roll her eyes at the cliché, she felt his cheek brushing against her hair behind her, and froze. He continued, speaking softly into her ear, "When love first came to Earth, the Spring spread Rose-beds to receive him." She felt each consonant as a tiny gust of warm air against her ear as she stood there, transfixed. Her heartbeat quickened and the blaster suddenly felt like it had quadrupled in weight, as she thought to herself, _he's not, he can't mean_…

"Thomas Campbell, poet," he explained, his tone noticeably more buoyant. "And then there's Yeats," he went on, "Rose of all Roses, Rose of all the World! You, too have come where the dim tides are hurled. Upon the wharves of sorrow, and heard ring, The bell that calls us on; the sweet far thing." He gave a dramatic pause and continued, shaking his head. "No, Rose. Rose Tyler, with a name that poets have written about for millennia, a name that represents the very essence of sweetness and love and springtime, no, Rose, 'spicy' is definitely _not_ the way to go for you."

She had the distinct and rather odd impression that he was looking for excuses to say her name. She wasn't sure how she felt about this.

"Are you sure the creature didn't escape?" interrupted Jackson's baffled voice from across the room.

"Oh, so now you _want_ help?" the Doctor asked, with more than a hint of peevishness about him. "Do a level II isomorphic scan, you'll see it there," he relented. Then he came round to face Rose again, and with a wink and a click of his tongue, Rose's mind was flooded with memories of tin dogs and clockwork droids and banana daiquiris, and the spell was effectively broken.

"D'you actually need something, or are you just hanging round here to smell my hair and talk about football matches while Mickey lies there helpless?" she asked, a fresh dose of annoyance in her voice.

He actually looked guilty for a moment. "Oh, no," he replied, shaking his head. And then he backtracked. "Well, yes. I just wondered if I could maybe have a look at that." He indicated the sonic blaster that was still trained on Jackson. "It might provide a clue as to what happened and why it didn't kill Mickey."

"I'm using it right now," Rose reminded him, eyebrows raised, sounding much like she was speaking to a five-year-old.

"Right, right," the Doctor replied, nodding and taking a deep breath. "But, really though…" he hesitated in mid-sentence.

"_What_?" Rose asked, increasingly impatient with his attitude. He clearly had something on his mind and she couldn't fathom why he was being so hesitant about it.

"I mean, it doesn't look like Mickey's in any imminent danger," he nodded towards Jackson, who was continuing his examination, "so it's not like you're actually going to _use_ that, if you get my meaning," the Doctor finally blurted out. "Right?" he asked, his voice suddenly tinged with doubt.

"Use it on Jackson, you mean?" Rose replied, clenching her jaw and glaring at him with fire in her eyes.

"Rose," he reproached, quietly, knowingly.

She sighed, lowered the weapon and handed it to him.

The Doctor began examining it, turning it over in his hands and scanning with the sonic screwdriver. A moment later he looked up at Jackson. "Where did you get this?" he asked.

"Local mini-mart," Jackson replied cynically, as he opened up Mickey's eyes and shone a light into each one. "Picked it up round the corner."

"You nicked this off a Time Agent, didn't you?" the Doctor accused. "51st century if I'm correct, and I usually am. You're not from around here, are you, Jackson? Been doing a bit of time travel yourself?"

"And what business is it of yours?" Jackson asked defiantly.

"Oh, none, really," replied the Doctor, shaking his head. "It's just what I do; stick my nose into other people's business. Quite a lot, really. Sort of a hobby of mine. I really should find something better to do with myself." He rubbed the back of his neck thoughtfully, then brightened suddenly. "Fishing!" he shouted, loud enough to make Rose and Jackson jump. He waggled a finger at Rose. "When we're done here, Rose, we're going fishing. Nice, quiet hobby, away from other people, we couldn't possibly get into trouble there."

Rose sincerely doubted this, and had a sudden vision of the three of them in a rowboat, being swallowed by a carnivorous mutant trout, or fighting radioactive frogs, but she held her tongue.

"But for now," the Doctor continued, "My friend is involved, and that makes it my business. So where'd you get this blaster? I'm betting you're not a Time Agent yourself, or you'd already know why it didn't work on Mickey. Where's it from, Jackson?"

Jackson sighed in defeat, took a deep breath and replied, all the while continuing his examination. "I never knew who she was," he began. "I was tracking the Entity, found its latest victim in the attic of an abandoned farmhouse, screaming, trying to stab himself in the gut with a rusty spoon in order to put an end to his pain." Jackson shuddered visibly. "I tried to help him, much like you're trying to help your friend now. He didn't want to be saved. Ended up giving me this." Jackson indicated a scar on his chin.

He was silent for a moment, the loudest pause that Rose had ever heard, echoing with screaming, tortured victims of the Edacious Entity. Then Jackson continued, "he'd been dead a full twenty minutes before I noticed there was another body in the room. Gnarled and emaciated. She'd been dead long before I ever got there. I found the blaster on the floor next to her."

"This was a Time Agency weapon," the Doctor stated conclusively.

"How d'you know?" Rose asked.

"Explains everything," the Doctor replied brightly. "It's set to detect Artron energy. Residual energy from the Vortex carried by all time travellers."

"So?" Jackson asked impatiently.

"If it senses it, it adjusts to a lower level blast. Well, not exactly lower level, once you've fired a full-force blast you can't retract it. So it mixes in a dash of Kesilon energy. Takes the edge off. Reins in the strength of the discharge."

"Why?" Rose asked.

"Prevents friendly fire accidents," the Doctor explained. "Sort of like a bullet proof vest for Time Agents."

"So when Jackson fired this at Mickey," Rose clarified, "it detected the Artron energy on him because he's travelled in time, assumed he was a Time Agent, and pulled the punch?"

"Exactly," the Doctor confirmed. "Mind you, time travellers _can_ still be bad guys, so the blaster still delivers a wallop of a blow, but not enough to kill. Looks like it had quite an effect on that creature, though."

"I hate to break up this chat," interjected Jackson, "but your friend is starting to go into shock. If we don't get him some help soon we may not have to wait for the creature to do the killing."

_tbc_


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5: In which we learn precisely who Jackson is, and Rose and the Doctor are finally honest with each other about a thing or two.

A/N: I must confess that after years of watching _Red Dwarf, _I am unable to hear the word "vindaloo" without giggling. It is in the spirit of Dave Lister that I interject any and all references to Indian food in any of my fics.

- - -

1981. The year of the Royal Wedding.

It was also, as it turned out, the year that _For Your Eyes Only_ was released.

Rose gazed out the window of the car as they passed a cinema where it was playing, and remembered the time she and Mickey had spent the entire weekend at his flat, watching 007 movies and using his telescope to spy on the nutter across the way who, as they'd playfully deduced, must be a foreign spy working undercover.

Their closer investigation, unfortunately, did not reveal any weapons, recording devices, or other such spy ware, but merely a collection of dead insects pinned to index cards, a fondness for displaying colourful toilet seats on his walls, and an odd habit of always turning the chairs in his flat upside-down when not in use.

After some discussion on the pros and cons of calling an ambulance and involving real medical professionals, the Doctor, Jackson, and Rose had decided that the best - and safest - thing they could do for Mickey would be to get him somewhere comfortable where they could get some food and water into him. Jackson had offered his flat for this purpose, and though Rose, who still didn't trust Jackson, had favoured other options, she had been overruled.

So the Doctor had located transport in the form of a grey 4-door Volkswagen that he ardently insisted was _borrowed_, and not stolen, and they had loaded Mickey's unconscious form into the back seat and Jackson's trap into the boot. Now they were heading for Jackson's flat with Jackson at the wheel, the Doctor riding shotgun, and Rose in the back next to Mickey, holding his hand and fawning over him protectively.

She did her best to ignore the Doctor's incessant prattle as she stared out the window, contemplating Roger Moore's rock climbing technique, and how anyone ever could've thought parachute trousers were a good idea.

Ignoring him wasn't working.

"…get him stabilised, and then I've got some unusual and _astonishingly_ brilliant thoughts as to how we can drive this creature out of him," the Doctor was explaining to Jackson.

"You really think it can be done?" Jackson asked doubtfully.

"What incapacitates will often, at a lower level, repel," the Doctor replied confidently. "We've already seen that it can be knocked out," the Doctor indicated the sonic blaster as he spoke. "I'm thinking that a low level dose of Kesilon energy, allowed to spread through his body might just do the trick."

"Spread through his body?" Rose asked cautiously. "Will it harm him?"

"Oh, no," he reassured her. "Well, he'll be out cold for a good hour or so, perhaps a bit of lingering soreness in his left brachialis, and he should avoid cinnamon for a good week or so, but that's the worst of it."

"So how do we do it?" Jackson asked.

"Well, unfortunately the blaster's been completely drained of its power, we'll need to recharge it, and Kesilon energy can be a bit tricky to work with. If you've got a lava lamp it would be most helpful. Or a fire extinguisher would do just as well. Then we can cook up some homemade Kesilon battery fluid – bit of garlic, wine, vinegar, chilli; if you've got some vindaloo on hand it should do the trick quite nicely."

Rose was just beginning to ponder the merits of battery fluid made from vindaloo when Mickey began to stir. His eyelids fluttered open and his head rolled back and forth on the headrest until he was looking directly at her. "Rose," he murmured.

"Doctor, Mickey's waking up," Rose said urgently.

"Where are we?" Mickey asked. "What happened?"

"Mickey, we're getting you some help," Rose informed him reassuringly. "The creature is still inside you. It's unconscious, but it's still there." She took his hand and leant over to look at him directly. "We'll sort it out," she promised. "We'll find a way to make it go."

"He shot me," Mickey said, almost in a whisper, suddenly remembering and looking up at Jackson. He grinned, a disturbing, cynical smile that made him look like a deranged serial killer. "Shot by my own father."

"Your _what_?" Rose asked, stunned.

The Doctor interrupted them before Mickey could reply further. Retrieving the particle detector from his pocket, he turned round, extended his arm towards Mickey and took aim. "Mickey," he interjected, "I'm sorry about this, but we need to keep you unconscious until we can get that creature gone. If you wake up, it might do as well." He pressed a button on the device, and immediately Mickey was rendered unconscious once again.

He turned to Rose, proudly brandishing the particle detector. "Handy tool, particle detector," he commented. "Gives off a variety of impulses in order to detect radiation, energy signatures, gaseous elements, all sorts of things. Mind you, I've never used it for that particular purpose before."

"You enjoyed that," Rose accused him.

"I did not," he replied, and Rose _almost_ believed the indignant look he gave her.

She turned her attention back to Mickey's words, _shot by my own father_ and looked over at Jackson, slowly putting the pieces together in her mind. "Mickey knew your name before you even told us," she said slowly. "Smith. That's your surname, isn't that right, Jackson?"

Jackson looked back in surprise. "Been using that name in these parts, yeah. How'd you know that?"

"Lucky guess," Rose replied vaguely. "You taking us to Miranda's flat, then?"

At the mention of Miranda's name, Jackson gasped and shot a threatening look back at Rose. "How do you know Miranda? You leave her out of this, she's got nothing to do with anything."

"I'm practically family," Rose said brazenly "Paid her a visit just today, I think you were in the shower."

Jackson gave a quick shake of his head, as if this was just too much information for him to process at once. "Who are you lot?" he asked quizzically.

"Told you, I'm the Doctor. This is Rose and Mickey," the Doctor replied calmly, sensing the tension between Rose and Jackson. "We only want to help, as long as you can keep that trigger-happy hand of yours under control, that is." He leant over towards Jackson and waggled a finger at him. "No more shooting people," he said in a voice that was only slightly menacing. Then he turned to Rose and asked, "so who's Miranda, then?"

"Miranda, as it seems, is where all paths converge," Rose replied enigmatically, then turned to Jackson. "So how've you managed to keep all this hidden from her? How's she going to react when she comes home and finds three strangers, one of them unconscious, in her living room at this hour?"

"She's not going to," Jackson explained. "She's gone away for a few days, and you lot should be long gone by the time she's back." He was quiet for a moment and Rose sensed just how uncomfortable he was with the situation. "We've got no choice," he said, defeated.

The car pulled into the car park by the apartment building. By this time, it was late at night, making it easier for them to lift Mickey out of the car and carry him, unnoticed, inside.

And of course, as Rose had guessed, Jackson led them straight for the flat they had been to earlier.

Miranda's flat.

Jackson and Miranda were Mickey's parents.

- - -

"It all started with my mate Ohanzee," Jackson began his tale as they all sat in the bedroom of his flat a short time later.

Rose sat on the bed with Mickey's head propped up in her lap, a glass of juice in her hand as she listened to him speak. The Doctor had partially revived Mickey, enabling him to drink, in an effort to get some fluid and calories into him, and Mickey was now alternating between slurping away at the glass, and occasionally spewing forth random, delirious rants.

The Doctor, for his part, was tinkering away as they talked, having partially dismantled the sonic blaster. He was surrounded on the floor by a myriad of parts, tools, cartons of Indian food and a fire extinguisher that he appeared to be using to extract some substance from its interior. Rose was left feeling rather uneasy at the sight of the mangled safety device, and wondered whether Jackson had another one on hand.

"…discussion though politically correct is dead beyond destruction…" Mickey murmured as he spluttered on a sip of juice.

Jackson continued with his story. "I used to be a farmer. Ohanzee was a bachelor on the neighbouring farm. One day my wife Simra stopped by to drop off some fresh bread for him, and found him curled up on the floor, screaming, retching and punching himself in the stomach with a fountain pen. We had no idea what was wrong with him. Simra spent the next week trying to care for him. She called doctors, they did endless tests and didn't find anything. Only useful thing they did was to offer painkillers, and they were only mildly effective. In the end, this strong man in his prime was reduced to 98 pounds, had torn out all his hair, and pulled off his own fingernails."

Rose looked down and pressed her forehead against Mickey's, eyes closed, while the Doctor let out a tiny yelp, having burnt his index finger on a wire.

Jackson continued. "Simra was the only one there when Ohanzee finally passed, so of course the creature had an easy time finding its next victim. When she didn't come home that night, I figured that Ohanzee had needed her, but I went looking for her the next day and found her. She had already scratched up so much of her face she was barely recognisable." His voice wavered, and he was silent for a moment.

They waited for him to continue. Finally Jackson took a deep breath and went on. "I don't remember much of that next week. I'm told that I never left her side, that I never stopped trying to find a cure." He inhaled sharply and his voice went hollow. "My son had to watch his mother like that, screaming in pain, begging for death. He was only five. He didn't understand why I couldn't help her."

"I'm sorry," Rose said softly.

He took a deep breath and continued. "Of course at that point I still had no idea what was causing this, or the dangers the creature posed, until Simra finally died and I saw the creature for the first time when it left her dead body and proceeded to devour my son."

Rose could see Jackson's shoulders wracked with restrained sobs as he inhaled deeply. Then he gritted his teeth with newfound determination. "Three days later, I held my lifeless five-year-old son's body, and I swore that I'd spend every day I had left on this planet working to track down this creature and destroy it."

"How long has it been?" asked the Doctor gently.

"A year," replied Jackson. "Longest year of my life, watching victim after victim scream in agony, having hopes dashed, time after time. I've given up on destroying it. But the trap will work, and I _promise_ you I _will _be the one to do it."

The Doctor turned to look at him, clapped his hands together and announced, "well, Jackson, my friend, today's your lucky day because now you've got me to help, and with this brain of mine, we can't possibly go wrong. Now where's that trap of yours?"

"…walks with a swagger and talks with a sneer…" Mickey murmured in a singsong voice.

"It's in the car," he replied. "I'll go fetch it."

Jackson left the room, Rose continued pouring juice into Mickey's mouth, while the Doctor worked away at modifying the weapon.

"…Wonder bread and Cheez-Whiz, gimme…" interjected Mickey dazedly.

They were both quiet for some time, and Rose sensed that the Doctor was uncomfortable being alone with her, still walking on eggshells after what had happened earlier with Mickey. With Jackson gone, they had lost their buffer; he had enabled them to discuss things like poetry and hair care products, and ignore the elephant in the room between them.

"Do you trust him?" Rose asked suddenly.

The Doctor sighed and rubbed a finger over his eye as he pondered. "Oh, what does that mean, anyway? Trust? I think he's a desperate man who's willing to do almost anything to catch that creature, but as long as he thinks we can be useful to that end he's not going to harm us." He nodded towards Mickey whose head was lolling about almost comically. "Make sure you keep at it, he needs as much as possible," he advised, indicating the glass of juice in Rose's hand.

The uncomfortable silence fell again, but something had been nagging at Rose's conscience, and she finally sensed that it was time to bring it up. She wiped a trail of juice off Mickey's chin as she started to speak tentatively. "Doctor?"

"Mmm?" he replied, not looking up from his tinkering.

She bit her lip and inhaled deeply before continuing. "Doctor, I lied," she confessed finally.

"What?" he asked, rummaging through the pieces of the weapon that he had taken apart.

"About Mickey," she clarified. "About not wanting him to come along with us after the Krillitanes." She took a deep breath. "Keeping him safe's not the reason I didn't want him." She looked down at the floor, embarrassed and ashamed.

"I know," he replied gently.

"…percent attention and ninety-nine show, always got an answer…" mumbled Mickey as Rose managed to get him to swallow a few more drops of juice.

Rose swallowed hard and continued. "But you lied too," she reprimanded, and this time she met his eyes directly as he looked up at her in surprise.

"I _what_?" he asked.

"The reason you agreed to bring him along," she explained, and she saw a distinctly guilty look cross his face before he looked down at the floor. "It wasn't for _my_ benefit," she accused. "Or his."

No matter how hard her eyes bored into his head, he wouldn't look up at her.

"I know," he said again, so softly she could barely make out the words.

She knew it was the truth, but hearing him openly admit it still stung. Rose was now fighting back the tears as she replied, "Doctor, when this is over, I want to go home. To stay."

She couldn't see his face, and wasn't sure if she wanted to. But then she was astonished when she _did_ see him react nonetheless. Strongly and visibly.

He flinched.

He actually _flinched_.

Rose stared at him in shock for a moment, then caught herself. Surely she couldn't, she _mustn't_ read anything personal into this; hadn't he only just admitted that he'd brought Mickey along for some interference between them? No, she couldn't possibly have this degree of power over him, _this_ Doctor, who hid everything behind a wall of charm and exuberance and an endless stream of prattle.

She wondered if this was a first for him; having a companion with cheek enough to leave _him_, or if it was always _he_ who did the leaving, as it had been with Sarah Jane.

"…take the time to savour your sweet doom…" Mickey felt the need to ramble at this point.

And then the Doctor was looking up at her, and she was again startled when she saw the unmistakable look of anguish on his face. She could see echoes of darkness, death and madness lurking in the shadows of his brown eyes, and she was reminded of his previous self; the look on his face when he'd asked her to come with him, and the way she'd injured him when she'd initially refused.

"Rose," he began imploringly, making her catch her breath at the tone of honest regret in his voice.

But he didn't get to finish. At the moment he spoke, Mickey began thrashing about on the bed.

"Doctor, help! He's having convulsions!" Rose cried out.

_tbc_


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6: In which Miranda arrives home unexpectedly, and the Doctor tells a story.

- - - 

Previously on _The Trouble With Mickey_:

_At the moment he spoke, Mickey began thrashing about on the bed._

"_Doctor, help! He's having convulsions!" Rose cried out._

- - - 

"Rose, hold him steady!" the Doctor ordered as he sprang to his feet, bent over Mickey and began scanning him with the sonic screwdriver.

Rose, who was still sitting on the bed with Mickey's head in her lap, did her best to keep him still while murmuring to him soothingly.

The Doctor ducked quickly, narrowly avoiding being kicked in the shoulder by Mickey's flailing left foot. "Heart rate, blood pressure off the scale, metabolic functions on the rise, and a distinct presence of amylase. The creature's waking up," he shouted out frenetically. He began barking out instructions. "Rose, get the blaster, I've just finished the modifications, we're going to have to dose him up now."

"But that'll drive the creature out of him and we've got no way to trap it," Rose protested as she stood up and grabbed the now-modified weapon off the floor.

"No choice," the Doctor said, anxiously looking round the room as if searching for another solution. "Mickey's body is already seriously weakened, we can't risk hitting him again with another full-force blast, and we can't let the creature wake up." He pointed at Mickey's neck. "Right there," he indicated. "I'll hold him steady, you point and shoot." He pressed down on Mickey's shoulders and succeeded in holding still his upper body, causing his lower body to thrash about even more.

Rose looked at him, hesitant at the prospect of discharging a weapon directly at Mickey.

"It's been modified," the Doctor assured her. "It won't harm him."

"Heard that one before," Rose said cynically as she aimed and fired.

The blaster set off a charge that was nearly invisible, and Rose looked questioningly at the Doctor, unsure if anything had happened. She wasn't left to wonder long, however; a moment later the area around Mickey's neck began to take on a distinctively reddish hue that slowly started to spread up and down his body.

And then Mickey's spasms began to subside. Rose looked questioningly at the Doctor.

He was scanning and nodding approvingly. "Good," he said. "The Kesilon energy is spreading through him, weakening the creature, almost like a Slitheen swimming in a vat of vinegar. Eventually it'll get the message that Mickey is contaminated and make its exit."

"How long will it take?" Rose asked.

"No idea," the Doctor said in reply, thoughtfully rubbing the back of his neck. "Hopefully long enough to get that contraption of Jackson's up and running, if he ever gets back here, that is."

As if in response, there were footsteps outside the door, and Jackson entered the room, lugging the trap along in his arms.

"Jackson, about time you got back, I was beginning to think you'd popped out for a smoke," the Doctor said, springing to his feet. "We've run into a bit of a snag, we need that trap of yours up and running right away. With any luck, the creature will be taking its leave of Mickey rather soon."

Jackson and the Doctor immediately set to work configuring the trap, while Rose stayed with Mickey and watched them work, reflecting on just how easy she was finding it these days to stay calm in the midst of a life-threatening situation. Facing death had become commonplace. Almost mundane, she thought with a yawn.

"Blasted 51st century technology," she heard the Doctor swearing under his breath as he and Jackson flicked switches, yanked wires, and traded technical jargon at a furious pace. "It's like every scientific mind from that century was thinking backwards, this might as well have been written in hieroglyphs." He gave the trap an annoyed shove.

"Doctor, what do we do if the creature escapes before you're ready?" Rose asked with increasing unease in her voice. Mickey's body had stilled and he was starting to make an odd guttural sound in the back of his throat that filled her with dread. "We can't let it go free," she added urgently.

"One problem at a time," the Doctor replied, letting out a yelp as he burned his hand on a live wire. "Jackson, switch off the thermal processor, I nearly lost a finger," he scolded.

"I need it to fuse the containment generator feed, the triangular vector is all wrong," Jackson interjected, clearly frustrated. "All the settings are off, must be something about the new location. The grid fuel cell has completely lost its charge." he announced.

What with the back-and-forth chatter between Jackson and the Doctor, the constant whir and clatter of the tools they were passing back and forth, and the fact that Rose's attention was rather preoccupied with her increasing concern over Mickey, it's really no wonder that nobody heard the approaching footsteps.

The door to the bedroom suddenly flung open, revealing Miranda, who was standing in the doorway with one hand over her mouth, gaping, horrified at the scene in front of her. Rose was reminded that there was nothing whatsoever mundane about the situation.

For one hideous moment, Miranda looked over at Jackson, as if expecting him to say a word or two that might offer a perfectly good explanation as to why there was an unconscious man lying on her bed bathed in a sickly red glow, being cradled by a blonde woman, both of whom had paid her an unexpected visit earlier that very day. Not to mention the strange brown-haired man in pinstripes who was, at the moment, yanking at a number of wires that were awkwardly splayed about the odd-looking device on the floor.

"What the hell is going on here?" she demanded, appearing to regain her senses as she ran over to look at Mickey. "What's wrong with him?"

"Miranda, no!" Jackson urged as he came up behind her and tried to take her by the hand to pull her away.

Miranda understandably resisted and wrenched her arm away from him. "Call an ambulance," she ordered Jackson roughly. "Why isn't he in hospital?" She bent over and began examining him, feeling for a pulse and opening his eyelids to look at his pupils.

Her timing couldn't have been worse; Mickey's mouth started to open and Miranda was hovering directly over him.

"NO!" Jackson shouted, but he was too late. The Edacious Entity emerged out from Mickey in a cloud of ravenous blue hunger, and headed directly up at Miranda.

The blue smoky substance that was the creature was immediately absorbed through Miranda's mouth and nose, and she collapsed to the floor, screaming in pain.

"NO!!" bellowed Jackson, senseless at the sight of Miranda falling prey to the creature. He dashed immediately to her side, crouched down on the floor and cradled her writhing body as she shrieked in agony.

Rose quickly verified that Mickey was indeed still alive and breathing (and sleeping comfortably, by all appearances), and then turned her attention to Jackson and the Doctor. She looked down where Jackson sat with Miranda and was struck like a bullet to her heart at just how unhinged he was with the situation, and just how desperate of a man he really was.

Jackson was now sobbing as he pleaded with the Doctor, who was still busily toiling away at getting the trap ready. "Doctor," he implored him, "Doctor, get it out of her! _Please_!"

The Doctor shot a frantic glance over at Jackson and Miranda, and continued working on the repairs. "If she can just hang on…" he urged.

"She _can't_," Jackson beseeched him. "Please make it go."

"Can't you shoot her?" Rose offered. "Like you did with Mickey. Knock them both out."

"No!" Jackson protested. "It'll _kill_ her."

"She's not a time traveller," the Doctor explained over the sound of Miranda's screams. "A full-force sonic blast would kill her. Just a few more minutes, Jackson, the trap'll be ready and then we'll dose her up like we did with Mickey."

"The trap's not going to be ready for at least an hour," Jackson revealed in a deadened voice.

"No, no," protested the Doctor. "I just need to re-route the power supply…"

"Look closer, the restraint system is completely dead," revealed Jackson. "It can't be done in less than 45 minutes, probably more. She won't hold out. _Please_ Doctor, _now_," Jackson begged, rocking back and forth with Miranda in his arms. Rose could see the tears streaming down his face as he sobbed. "She's all I have left. I _can't_ lose her."

The Doctor grabbed a tool off the floor, scanned the trap, and his face visibly fell as he saw the truth of Jackson's prognosis. He looked back and forth between Jackson and the partially-dismantled trap as he pondered for a moment. Then, as if resigning himself to some horrible fate, he sighed and did some quick tinkering on the sonic blaster and handed it to Jackson. "Just aim it at her neck, near her carotid artery," he instructed. He had a look of acquiescence about him that Rose was finding extremely unsettling.

Jackson aimed and fired, the red glow began to spread over Miranda, and her body stilled. Jackson continued to hold her, murmuring reassurances into her ear.

The Doctor took a deep breath and was suddenly all business. "Right then," he began brightly. "Now this is going to be a tad more uncomfortable than your basic stubbed toe, so I'd appreciate it if you would make this quick, Jackson." He threw a glance down in his direction, where Jackson was still bent over Miranda, clearly not listening to a word he was saying. "Jackson!" barked the Doctor.

Jackson looked up with a start.

"Need you to stay with us, Jackson. You'll need to calibrate the containment grid, and monitor the restraint system, just make sure it's up to at least 80 percent before deployment."

"Doctor, what are you doing?" Rose asked.

"I'm going to host the creature," he explained, as if this should've been perfectly obvious. He began rolling up his sleeves as he spoke. "It'll be taking its leave of her soon," he nodded towards Miranda, "and we can't just let it roam freely, it'll escape before we're ready with the trap." He made his way over to where Miranda was lying and positioned himself firmly in a wide stance, and bent over her face, ready to receive the creature.

"Doctor, no!" Rose cried.

"Rose, I'll be fine," he assured her. "Time Lords taste terrible anyway. Ever heard of a creature called the Beast of Gevaudan?"

Rose shook her head.

"It once made the mistake of trying me out for lunch, got as far as sinking its teeth into my left leg and was so disgusted at the taste of me that it spat me out a full twenty feet, propelling me into a stone wall. Worst part wasn't even the two cracked ribs, it was being covered head to foot in slimy brown Gevaudan spit." He gave her a reassuring wink.

Rose smiled in spite of herself, but continued to protest. "But what if…"

"Rose we've got no choice. Now I'll be fine, but I need you to stay with me and monitor the situation. Here's the blaster, it's set to administer a dose of Kesilon energy that will drive the creature out of my body. _Don't_ use it until the trap is ready. If I go unconscious, or you truly think I won't make it that long, use this," he handed her the sonic screwdriver and continued, "setting 63178 will convert the blaster back to the original setting. You can knock the creature and me both out, but that will delay us several hours, so that's a last resort only. Do you understand?"

Rose nodded solemnly, just as Miranda's mouth opened to release the creature. The blue cloud emerged, headed straight for the Doctor, and was immediately sucked in.

Surprisingly, the Doctor didn't collapse to the floor screaming like the other victims had done. Instead he staggered backwards a bit, looking decidedly queasy in the face, and gingerly made his way over to the bed, where he sat down slowly, like an old man nursing a hip injury.

"How d'you feel?" Rose asked him.

"Like I've just eaten some of your mother's cooking," he winced. Then he lurched and groaned as if he'd been punched in the stomach, and fell over on the bed, rocking back and forth sideways.

Jackson was eyeing him up curiously. "I've seen countless people host that creature and I've never seen anyone react like that," he observed.

"It's because the Doctor's not human," Rose explained.

"Or maybe I'm just thick," the Doctor interjected, sniggering maniacally. He was tossing about on the bed as if trying unsuccessfully to snuggle in.

"What can I do?" Rose offered.

"Can't…get…comfortable," he lamented through clenched teeth. "I feel like I'm having a baby."

Rose shrugged. "Well you are, in a way," she observed.

"I thought you wanted to help," he accused through more grimacing. "Distract me. Tell me a story."

"A story?" she asked sceptically.

"Something nonsensical. Whimsical," he added.

Rose raised an eyebrow at him as she thought. "Once upon a time," she began finally, "there was a green dragon, and he ate a whole train full of obnoxious people."

"_Dogs in Space._ Nique Needles," interrupted the Doctor. "Never mind that. Tell me something real."

She rolled her eyes and tried again. "OK, well, when I was small, my Mum used to…"

"Did I ever tell you about Marcus?" he interrupted again.

Rose sighed and realised that he'd probably be better served if she could keep _him_ talking, and not the other way round. "No, tell me now," she ordered..

"Marcus was a merchant who I met on Peuchen during the war," the Doctor began. He grimaced and sucked in some air quickly through puckered lips and Rose waited for him to continue.

He took a deep breath and went on. "Marcus had been a POW, trapped in a pitch-black underground cell for three years. He'd gone blind from the torture and the 'treatments' and he didn't even know it. For three years he survived, three years of constantly being on edge, always waiting to see when the next hand would reach out from the darkness to grab him and subject him to another, more creative, more horrific form of torture."

Rose shuddered as the Doctor lurched in another spasm. She held his hand tightly and wiped the sweat from his brow. "How are those repairs coming, Jackson?" she called to him urgently.

"Working as fast as I can. Don't distract me, you'll only slow me down," Jackson replied irritably.

The Doctor inhaled deeply, his eyes squeezed shut, and Rose had the sense that he was trying to tell her something, though the point of this story was still a mystery.

"One day, the meals stopped coming," the Doctor continued. "Marcus found out later that the opposition had been driven out and they'd either moved or executed all the other prisoners, but somehow he'd been overlooked. He was alone, completely blind, lost in the bowels of that deep, dark dungeon."

He was silent for a time, and Rose saw that his fists were clenched so tightly they seemed to be made of stone, his knuckles white, veins bulging, his fingernails digging into his palms, and she wanted to scream with frustration at feeling so helpless.

Finally he exhaled sharply and spoke again. "Marcus waited hours, days even, there's no way to know just how long, before he finally ventured out of his cell, expecting to be shot at any moment. The cells weren't locked, you see, the prisoners were confined by means of darkness and fear, and armed guards who'd shoot dead any prisoner who moved an inch in the wrong direction."

He let out an agonised groan and doubled over in a foetal position as he breathed out short, staccato breaths that reminded Rose of the natural childbirth breathing they always showed on hospital programmes. She could see just how much effort it was for him to speak like this, and wondered what was so important about this story that made him so intent on finishing.

He went on, "After feeling his way through the halls for several hours, Marcus was totally and completely lost, and gave up hope of ever finding his way out. And then he heard it."

"What?" asked Rose.

"A voice," he replied simply. "A soprano, singing an aria, clearly, steadily, resonating through the halls of the dungeon. Long, sweet, pure notes of unspoilt vibrato and foreign words that he couldn't begin to understand and didn't want to. He described it as a voice straight out of Heaven. It was the first and only thing of beauty he'd encountered during his imprisonment. Says he wept like a baby."

Rose listened to him talk and marvelled at how he could retell this story of beauty, all the while enduring intense pain that was the very opposite of heavenly.

The Doctor continued, "But then the voice started to fade. In desperation, he went after it, following the sound through the hallways, up the staircases, and the next thing he knew, he was outside the prison building, and safely past the sea of grenades that guarded the periphery of the facility."

"The voice led him to safety," Rose observed.

"Yes," the Doctor confirmed, wincing and gritting his teeth.

"And who was it?" Rose asked.

The Doctor exhaled slowly before answering. "He never found out," he finally replied. "He stumbled along in his own personal darkness for some time, shouting for help, and when he was finally rescued, the voice was long gone, and nobody believed him."

Rose saw that he'd reached the end of his story, but she was still completely baffled as to the meaning of it all. She was about to ask him, but one look at his face, eyes closed, veins bulging, his features excruciatingly contorted with the effort not to cry out in pain, and she knew she wouldn't get any more coherent thoughts from him.

"Jackson, he can't wait much longer," she informed him urgently.

"Almost there," he said, screwing in the last of the loose wires as he aimed a scanner at the device.

"…haliplidae," the Doctor chimed in nonsensically, his eyes squeezed shut

"Doctor, hang on," she whispered into his ear as he reached up and dug his fingers into his scalp, rocking his head back and forth.

"Fasciculus Chemicus," he replied. "Ingress, progress and egress."

"Stay with me, Doctor," Rose pleaded.

"Susan," he mumbled, "Where's Susan?" And then he opened his eyes at her and she knew that he wasn't seeing her, he was seeing someone, or something entirely different and unworldly.

"Shhh," she stroked his cheek comfortingly.

"It's fading," he said to whoever-it-was that he was talking to. "The music, it's fading out."

"There's no music, Doctor," she informed him gently.

"_Misero pargoletto_," he insisted.

"Jackson, I'm losing him, I may have to use the blaster on him soon," Rose informed him desperately. She flicked on the sonic screwdriver and used it to swap settings on the weapon.

"No!" Jackson insisted. "You do it and he'll be knocked out for hours and we'll have to re-calibrate the trap all over again. Just one more thing to check," he said, furiously flipping switches and checking readings on the device.

"So cold," the Doctor shivered. "The shadows are getting colder. Her voice is almost gone."

"Whose voice?" Rose asked.

"The aria," the Doctor replied inexplicably. "She guides my way through the dark labyrinth."

Rose's heart was suddenly pounding in her throat with something other than adrenaline, as she came to understand what he had been trying to tell her.

"Her voice shows me the way," he continued. "Nothing can make the darkness go away, but her song makes it bearable. Sometimes even beautiful." He spoke almost reverently to whoever-it-was that he was seeing off in the distance. "Then I remember," he added, "that the song will end one day, long, long before I'm ready, and so I push her away and put up barriers and try to convince myself that she's no more special than any of the others and that when she's gone I won't be left feeling my way through the cold, dark dungeon, alone and lost."

His voice was almost a whisper and his body had stilled, a fact that Rose was finding more frightening than the grimacing and writhing. She took a deep breath in an effort to surface above the flood of emotions that was threatening to overtake her, and swallowed hard at the lump in her throat. _It was time_, she decided. She lifted the weapon to administer the blast that would knock him out for the rest of the night.

"Ready," Jackson announced suddenly, stopping her a nanosecond before firing.

Rose looked up and saw, to her utter relief, that the trap's silvery dome of light had been deployed on the ceiling. She switched on the sonic screwdriver, used it to swap settings on the blaster once again, and fired at the Doctor's neck.

Immediately the red glow began to spread. His eyes opened, and she could tell that he was back; he was seeing her once again.

"Rose," he whispered.

"I'm here," she reassured him.

"Stay with me," he implored her.

"I'm right here, Doctor," she took his hand in hers and stroked it. "We've shot you with your concoction and the creature should be out of your body soon."

"Rose, don't go," he murmured again as his eyes closed and he drifted off into an exhausted slumber.

She heard him. She heard what he said and she heard what he didn't say, and she knew what he meant, knew that it reached far beyond their current predicament.

Really, though, it didn't matter; her mind was made up. "I'm not going anywhere, Doctor," she whispered.

_tbc_


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7: In which we come full circle and all loose ends are tied up.

- - -

Mickey, it seemed, was none the worse for the wear.

He had awoken after several hours of sleep, still groggy, with an appetite that overrode all other concerns at the moment regarding their situation. He sat in the living room of the flat in the corner chair, wolfing down slice after slice of cold pizza, silently regarding Jackson and Miranda.

Miranda, on the other hand, had not been so lucky. Though she'd hosted the creature for a fraction of the time that Mickey had, she had been profoundly affected by the experience. The joie de vivre, so apparent about her before, was gone. She had awoken looking numb, deadened, with a haunted look in her eyes; eyes that darted about, refusing to meet anyone else's.

Rose remembered Mickey's words earlier. _"Something about her was just never quite right.. It's like even when she was there, there was something missing…she'd hold me or hug me and she was cold. Hollow. Never felt like it was complete. Never really satisfying."_

_This_ was the woman Mickey had spoken of, Rose realised. One glance over at Mickey's face as he watched Jackson help Miranda to her feet, and she could tell that he was thinking the same thing.

Jackson fixed her some tea and sat her down at the kitchen table as the Doctor emerged from the bedroom, having made some last-minute adjustments on Jackson's device that would now contain the creature for the foreseeable future.

"We've got 100 percent containment," the Doctor informed him. "I've made some adjustments to boost the strength of the restraint regulator. The creature won't be able to get away, so long as the resonance ratio stays above 63 percent. Your power supply is up and running, and you've got a battery backup that should last you a good week or so in case of emergency."

"Thanks," Jackson acknowledged.

The Doctor glanced round the flat. "What will you do now?" he asked.

"Stay," Jackson replied, his tone one of peaceful resignation. "Take care of her." He indicated Miranda, who was sipping her tea, looking off into the distance with a vacant expression. "I've got nothing to go home to, and she'll need someone to look after her."

"You know, she's not likely to recover," cautioned the Doctor. "She'll never be the same again."

"It's my fault," explained Jackson. "This never would've happened to her if it hadn't been for me." Before the Doctor could object, he added, "and I love her. I'm not leaving her."

The Doctor accepted this with a nod. "Well, then. Sounds like you've found your calling." He scratched his neck thoughtfully. "More than most of us can say. Best of luck to you."

Rose and Mickey arose from their seats and joined the Doctor by the door. Rose threw her arms around Jackson in farewell, as she whispered into his ear, "I'm sorry."

Jackson acknowledged her words with a nod and turned to shake Mickey's hand.

Mickey was looking back at him with a pained, incredibly intent expression, like he was simultaneously trying to absorb every detail about Jackson - his _father_, Rose reminded herself, whilst fighting the urge to launch into a litany of emotional angst.

"Come on, Mickey," Rose tugged at his arm, gently urging him along as she and the Doctor headed out the door.

Mickey started to follow, but paused for a moment and turned back to Jackson. "Lock the attic," he said cryptically.

And with that, he turned back and followed Rose and the Doctor out the door.

- - -

"What I don't understand," Rose said a short time later as the three of them approached the TARDIS, "is how Jackson knew that the creature would affect Miranda like that."

"Maybe he didn't," the Doctor speculated with a shrug. "He might've just been trying to protect her. He'd already seen his wife and child killed by that thing, he probably just couldn't stand the thought of losing someone else."

"He knew," Mickey interjected bluntly.

Rose and the Doctor both looked at him questioningly.

"He knew, or he had a good idea, anyway," Mickey elaborated.

"How?" Rose asked.

"She's pregnant," he revealed, as they reached the blue box and the door squeaked open.

Rose gaped at Mickey in surprise as they entered the TARDIS and he headed down the hallway towards his room. She threw a glance over at the Doctor, who had donned his glasses and was starting to examine the mess of wires that were still on the console room floor.

He nodded in the direction Mickey had gone. "That'd explain it, yeah," he said as he descended down into his alcove and started work.

Rose threw a glance down at him where he sat hunched over as he worked, his back turned towards her. She knew that he was avoiding her, would continue to avoid discussing the day's events, and she knew that she would have to force the issue with him.

But first, she had Mickey to deal with. She passed through the console room, headed down the corridor towards Mickey's room andrapped gently onthe door. "Mickey? It's me," she said.

"Come in," came his voice from inside.

She entered and found him sitting on the floor next to the bed, staring at a picture in his hands. Rose sat down beside him, and he handed her the picture. It showed Jackson, Miranda and a youngster, presumably Mickey who appeared to be about two years old, smiling happily round a table laden with birthday cake, ice cream and candles.

"February 9th," she reflected. "Your birthday. That'd mean she's two months gone already. I hadn't worked it out till now."

Mickey was closely examining his shoelace and did not reply.

"She was beautiful," she commented. "And Jackson really loved her." She sighed. "Mickey, I know how hard this must be for you, but at least now you know it wasn't your fault she left. Your Gran was telling the truth – she really couldn't cope."

"But it _was_ my fault," he said miserably. "I'm the one who insisted on going to see her. If we hadn't meddled – "

Rose cut him off. "If we hadn't meddled, I wouldn't have stopped Jackson from catching the creature back there in the basement. If this is anyone's fault, it's mine."

"You were just trying to help," Mickey brushed her off. "_You_ were trying to save someone's life. Me, I was just in it for myself."

"You had questions," Rose justified. "It's perfectly normal. And between you and me, I've caused a mess or two myself travelling back in time to see family. It's dangerous, that's all there is to it."

They sat in silence, Rose grasping his hand tightly as he continued to look everywhere but directly at her.

"Mickey, you can't do this to yourself," Rose insisted.

"You don't know the whole story," he said, wiping at his eyes with the back of his hand. "It gets worse."

"Mickey, no," Rose objected.

"It does, though," he insisted. "It's not just Mum. It's my fault _he_ left as well."

"How could it be – " Rose protested.

"It was the trap," he explained. "I'd forgotten about it till now. He used to keep it in the attic. I wasn't allowed to go up there on my own, but one morning, I must've been about three, I woke up before them and I went exploring and I found it up there. So many lights and switches, so fascinating when you're a little kid…" He choked back a sob and closed his eyes, sitting motionless as he tried to regain composure enough to continue. "Dad was nearly senseless when he found me, I never understood what the big deal was, all I knew, next day he was gone."

"Oh, God Mickey," Rose consoled.

"I must've released the creature," Mickey elaborated. "He must've gone off hunting it again." He paused, letting it sink in. "So you see, my fault. All of it."

"Mickey, you were only a kid," Rose offered.

"Three years old, and I touch one wrong thing and my Dad leaves home," he said bitterly. "I suppose that's why I ended up so useless now, always afraid of doing the wrong thing again."

"Mickey, you are _not_ useless," Rose insisted.

"I am, though," he replied, turning to look at her. "What am I supposed to do now?" he asked helplessly.

"You forgive yourself," Rose instructed. "And you go on, and you try to make a difference. You find something worth fighting for, and you keep fighting."

Mickey buried his head in his arms and did not reply. Rose, seeing that he needed to be alone, stood up and with an affectionate pat on his shoulder, she left the room.

- - -

She emerged a few minutes later into the console room to find the Doctor sitting on the floor, still surrounded by heaps of wires. He met her gaze for a moment with a perfunctory grin, then plunged back down into the mess in front of him that he was sorting through; next to the biggest group of wires, there were five smaller piles, each colour-coded.

"Not quite ready to make the grand exit we'd have liked, I'm afraid," he indicated. "Got a bit diverted when I picked up on the radiation from that trap of Jackson's, never got round to finishing these repairs. I'd guess two, maybe three more hours to finish it all up. The phase stabiliser is all fixed, but the connection array wasn't sequenced properly so we've got some bad wires and everything needs to be re-scanned and sorted properly."

She noticed that he was speaking even faster than usual.

"Four hours, tops," he continued, rummaging through a bin of parts. "I really should double check everything before we take off, wouldn't want another mishap like before – sorry about that, by the way. Don't know how I could've made such an error. Anyway, should be enough time for you and Mickey to pop out to the chip shop if you want. Go do some shopping. Or the arcade. Or the cinema if you like."

He stopped talking as he removed a device from the bin, and Rose knew full well that his silence was involuntary, due only to the fact that his work required his full attention. But she was determined to seize the opportunity, however it came. "Doctor, I wanted to…" she began.

He looked up at her expectantly and the words slipped away. She took a deep breath and tried another tactic. "Where we off to next, then?" she asked.

He looked down again and pointed the sonic screwdriver at a device, examining it intently as he spoke. "Anywhere you like," he replied, sounding just a little too casual. He picked up a green wire and absentmindedly placed it in the pile of white ones, all the while not looking her way.

_He looked so old_, she thought. Even from her vantage point aside of him, hunched over as he was, Rose could see the gravity of his words weighing him down with the unspoken question that was buried amidst them. He sat there staring at the floor, completely still, awaiting her response.

She remembered his words earlier. "_She guides my way through the dark labyrinth," _he had said_. "…the song will end one day, long, long before I'm ready, and so I push her away and put up barriers…"_

And now she understood. Sarah Jane, Mickey, Reinette, everything he'd said and done that she'd been selfish enough to take personally. It wasn't because he didn't care; it was because he cared _too much_. He'd been steeling himself against the Curse of the Time Lords; the knowledge that one day she'd be gone and he'd be on his own again. Bracing himself for the impact, as it were. Pushing her away sooner rather than later.

Or trying to, at any rate. Not very successfully, it would seem.

"_The voice led him to safety."_

And so she resolved, if they couldn't have forever, that she could at least do this for him in the time that they had. She could stay with him and not give up on him, and hope that when she's done, he – and the universe – would be in a better state than how she found them.

_Really, that's all anyone can do_, she thought.

She came over to the spot where he was seated, knelt down next to him and grabbed him by the wrist as he looked up in surprise. "What was that you said before about low-gravity rock climbing?" she asked him, fixing his gaze determinedly.

He was silent for a moment as he processed her response, absorbing her declaration that she'd no intention of leaving, and then she glimpsed the relief in his eyes as if something tightly wound within him had released. Neither of them moved but there was a perceptible shift, as if a window had opened letting in a breeze of fresh sea air.

And then the corners of his mouth turned upwards, and he was back, all charm and playful grins.

"Ballybran," he reminded her, springing to his feet and bounding across the room as he lifted up a section of flooring, revealing a portion of the TARDIS' inner workings. "Simply incredible cliffs fifteen-thousand feet high, and with the low gravity you'll scale them like a spider on a wall. Fantastic views too, particularly if we can catch it on a double-sunset day." He reached under the floor panel and flicked a switch. "Mind you, the view in the Northern province suffered greatly after the Governor erected that dreadful, positively enormous statue of himself, I swear the man's head looked just like aradish. Still, the Western province is mostly unspoilt."

His eyes twinkled as he came back over to the alcove. Rose watched him, bemused, as he selected a green wire and a brown one from the pile, examined them carefully with some sort of scanning device, and proceeded to sprawl out on the floor on his stomach and reach under a floor panel in an effort to place the wires in their proper connections.

Rose's mind was momentarily occupied with trying to envision an alien with the head of a radish, when the Doctor's voice brought her back to reality. "So not going home, then?" he asked, his voice quiet and intense and a little breathless.

She made her way over and crouched down head-to-head with him. "Never," she confirmed.

He looked up with a smile that was radiant and playful and warmed her like a favourite old quilt on a cold day.

She ran her tongue over her teeth with a teasing grin and added, "'Cept to visit my Mum every so often, of course."

He rolled his eyes and bent back over his work. "Jackie Tyler, the bane of my existence," he snorted, as he tried to balance a mass of wires and gadgets in his grasp as he worked. She wasn't surprised when, with a loud yelp, he poked himself in the eye.

"Can I help?" she offered.

"Good idea," he agreed, pushing himself up into a sitting position. He grabbed a few items, and the next thing she knew, he was sitting behind her on the floor, straddling her and pushing a wire into one of her hands, a device that looked much like a Gameboy into the other. "Here," he instructed. "You scan the wires and sort them so I can connect them in the proper sequence." He showed her how to use the scanner, guiding her hands at every step.

The device clicked and Rose read the output out loud, "Five-nine-three-stroke-A-seven."

"Good," he nodded. "Now try the next one, and make sure you sort them by K-factor first, then A-factor."

He let go of her hands, allowing her to work on her own, whilst continuing to watch over her shoulder. She felt his hair tickle against her ear, and then felt a hand on her shoulder. She sighed contentedly and continued to work through the rather daunting pile of wires.

She noticed that he wasn't exactly hurrying to get back to his part of the work; he seemed content to sit and watch her toil away.

"So how's Mr. Mickey, then?" he asked.

Rose could feel his fingers as they started to move about the exposed skin of her neck, gently tracing patterns up and down. "He's had better days," she replied.

He sighed and fingered her hair thoughtfully as he spoke. "I was worried he'd – "

"It wasn't your fault," Rose interjected.

His hand resting on her arm tightened, and the other in her hair stilled. "You were singing quite a different tune earlier," the Doctor reminded her darkly.

"I was wrong," she stated definitively. "If it weren't for you he would've been killed."

"Maybe." He resumed his caresses, moving down to her arm, sending goose bumps along its length. "Still, you were right about some things," he added.

He spoke thoughtfully, his chin resting on her shoulder, as Rose paused, waiting for him to continue, her thoughts racing, speculating as to what this was about.

"I shouldn't have – " he trailed off and for a moment, he was somewhere else altogether.

And then Rose knew what he meant to say, and knew that this was the closest to an apology that she was going to get. And it didn't matter. It was enough. It was more than enough.

She grinned and finished his sentence teasingly, "You shouldn't have eaten that garlic bread, is what you shouldn't have done. Your breath is positively frightful."

Despite her words, he made no attempt to move away. "Ah, but for garlic, it's worth it," he smiled back. "Not many things in this universe as useful as garlic; it's good for the hearts, it's delicious, _and_ it repels vampires. And mosquitoes. And, if I'm very, _very_ lucky, perhaps your mother as well."

Rose chuckled and they both fell silent as she savoured the warmth of him encircling her, his touch on her neck, lightly tracing lines up into her hair and down again, the sound of his breathing, so close against her ear, as she continued to work away at sorting and ordering the wires.

"So you need to connect them up, yeah?" she asked finally, indicating the work that he wasn't doing, not certain she wanted to be reminding him of it.

"Mmm-hm," he confirmed, making no move to get up and start on it.

"Doctor,?" she repeated more pointedly this time. "Don't they need to be re-attached?"

"Yeah," he replied dreamily, a finger tracing the outer edge of her ear. "It's nicer here, though."

Rose reached over to touch his hand resting on her arm. She gently stroked it, feeling the peaks and valleys of his knuckles and his veins pulsing away under the skin. She leant her head back on his shoulder, pressing more of her weight against his chest, which she could feel rising and falling steadily with each breath. "I'm rather forced to agree," she teased gently.

Suddenlythe spell was broken with a crash that came from across the room. They jumped apart as they both saw Mickey approaching. He bent over to pick up the assortment of tools that he'd knocked on the floor and then wandered over towards the two of them.

"So we off then?" he asked, looking round the console room in a daze, as if he'd just woken up from a fitful sleep.

The Doctor had sprawled himself out again out on the floor and was reaching under the panels to work on the re-connections. "Not for a couple hours," he replied through grunts as he stretched.

"Can I help?" he offered.

Rose, sensing his need for a distraction, indicated the mass of wires she was working her way through. "You can help me sort through these," she said, handing him one.

"K-factor first, then A-factor," the Doctor reminded them emphatically. "_Make sure_. Miss one and I'll have to re-sequence them all over again. The stabiliser array's got to be spot-on, or there's no telling what might happen when we reach the Vortex."

Mickey held up a bundle of green colour-coded wires. "What're the green ones for, then?" he asked, suddenly interested in the inner workings of the TARDIS.

"Green. Frequency trace," replied the Doctor. "Lower hull integrity. Mix up those connections and you'll have some serious issues with hull breaches on the lower decks." He nodded toward Rose. "Much like what happened on Mersaia."

Rose burst out laughing and Mickey looked inquisitively between the two of them "What happened there, then?" he asked.

Rose spoke between giggles. "The Doctor's entire stash of Jelly Babies got dumped as we landed on the planet," she explained. "Right on top of the parade going on in the city centre."

The Doctor looked sheepish, which only piqued Mickey's curiosity further. "So what?" he asked, prodding her to continue.

"Sugar is a narcotic on Mersaia," the Doctor offered as he rose to a sitting position on the floor and reached for another group of wires.

Now Mickey was beginning to get the joke, and chuckled along. "What did they do to you?" he asked.

"You're looking at a convicted drug dealer," Rose added nodding towards the Doctor. "Sentenced to a year's service in the penitentiary, put to work polishing their ridiculously vast collection of religious artefacts and cleaning the cathedral toilets."

The Doctor crinkled his nose. "Nasty polish they've got there," he said disdainfully. "Smells worse than a skunk who's been living in a rubbish heap full of rotten eggs. Dries out the skin too. And it makes your hair curl."

"And we all know what a disaster _that_ would be," Rose sniggered.

"How'd you get away?" Mickey asked.

"That, my friend," replied the Doctor, "is a particularly spellbinding story involving a blue fedora, an eggbeater, and a pair of insurance executives. It all started with…"

Rose listened contentedly as the Doctor related the tale, all the while studying Mickey carefully. She could sense a palpable change about him; his grief was still there, but under it was a sense of determination, a bit of fire to him that hadn't been there before.

She could sense it, deep down in her gut.He was going to be just fine.

**The Trouble With Mickey is over.**


End file.
